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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23486935">Humble Adoration</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LibraryBandit/pseuds/LibraryBandit'>LibraryBandit</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Prodigal Son (TV 2019)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Brightwell, Cuddling &amp; Snuggling, Dani loooooooves him, Established Relationship, F/M, Mentions of sexy things, avert your eyes if you can't handle cuddle monster!Malcolm, but I'm more of a fade-to-black kinda gal, in an ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP boy howdy, shameless cuddling fic, so don't worry too much</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 08:49:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,435</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23486935</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LibraryBandit/pseuds/LibraryBandit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It occurred to her, eventually, that he was trying (and succeeding) to put her to sleep. When she realized this, Dani let out a little grunt. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing,” she mumbled. Her voice was muffled against his pectoral. </p><p>“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Malcolm said innocently, and Dani scoffed lightly through her nose. </p><p>She let out a long, relaxed sigh against him. “You’re trying to put me to sleep with your voodoo,” she said accusingly. </p><p>“You’re just upset it’s working.” </p><p> </p><p>----<br/>When Dani comes up against the Cuddle Monster, she loses. Every time.<br/>Shameless fluff written for a buddy who screamed into the void for (naked) Brightwell cuddles.<br/>The void answered.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Malcolm Bright/Dani Powell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>133</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Humble Adoration</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>It was one of those all-too-rare days wherein their case was solved before the day was even finished. A pretty straight forward gang shooting, a war over turf or drugs or both. They didn’t actually require Malcolm’s unique set of skills, but Gil shot him a text anyway to see what he was up to; Malcolm responded almost instantly, very clearly at home and bored. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The crime scene did little to stanch that boredom. It was evident within minutes that it held nothing of notable interest for him. Dani watched as he took everything in, his eyes sweeping over the arrangement of the four victims before, as usual, he got inappropriately close to each of the bodies, squatting down to get a closer look at one in particular. But when he stood, his shoulders drooped despondently, and it was clear he was disappointed there wasn’t anything more nefarious afoot. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was Dani’s turn to do the bulk of the paperwork; she was definitely not disappointed their case was so straightforward. The cousin of one of the victims witnessed the whole thing and was able to identify the responsible gang members--by name, no less. Stupidly, they hadn’t even tried to leave town. They were in their homes, smoking, and all too quickly, their turf war case turned into a dull matter of easy arrests and too much documentation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dani didn’t mind paperwork. Generally, she was quick and efficient at it (not to mention better than JT). Malcolm’s services weren’t needed anymore, but he hitched a ride back to the precinct anyway, citing a desperate need for a change of scenery. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I promise I won’t distract you,” he said, and she could have sworn he bat his lashes at her a few times. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Better not,” she mock warned. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That is, of course, unless you </span>
  <em>
    <span>want </span>
  </em>
  <span>me to distract you,” he said, quirking a brow at her, and she pulled her bottom lip in with her teeth to hide a smile at how his eyes widened just a touch, like he had surprised himself with the comment. Malcolm wasn’t an overtly flirty person by any stretch of the imagination. But the fact that he still made a vague attempt to charm her, even after they had been dating for nearly five months, was adorable.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Gross,” she said. “Don’t hold your breath for workplace sex anytime soon.” Malcolm scrunched his nose at that, as if he pictured how awkward and terrible that would actually be and immediately regretted the innuendo. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When they arrived back at the precinct, as promised, he wasn’t a distraction at all. He pulled up a chair behind Dani’s desk and quickly immersed himself in something on his phone. Dani was able to turn her focus solely on her report; she had found that if she kept her head down and just dug into them, reports really didn’t take long at all. And they aren’t nearly the pain in the ass JT makes them out to be. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A handful of times, she paused to stretch out her back, pressing her elbows up and back until she earned a successful pop from her shoulders. Bright was still behind her, in the same position he was in a half hour ago when she turned to look at him the last time. He had grown so quiet, she thought he’d wandered away without her noticing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was still behind her, hunched forward in his seat as he stared down at his phone in his hand. The other hand cupped his chin, hiding his mouth behind his fingers, but she could tell he was frowning by the way his brow creased. His elbows rested on his thighs; he had somehow managed to cross his ankles under him as he sat Indian style in a chair he shouldn’t have had enough room to do that in. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She knew without even having to ask that he was looking over cold case files. He was rarely </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> looking over case files, be them cold or fresh, and today’s case was closed; now he was digging into the past ones. She recognized the look that would come over him as he tried to puzzle something together, staring down crime scene photos like he was going to make them finally crack and tell him their secrets.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>JT had asked him once, more curious than condescending, what Bright even did all day when he wasn’t called in to consult. And likely, JT was expecting him to say he spent all his time at suit fittings, or country club meetings, or playing squash. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In all reality, it was none of those things. In his free time lately, when he wasn’t with them, Malcolm immersed himself in cold cases. As his name got out there, referenced in an ever increasing number of NYPD news articles, people started reaching out to him, directly. Emails from still grieving family members of homicide victims whose murders were still unsolved started pouring into his inbox. Each sender all but begged him to take a look at their case, which by now had long grown cold, its evidence stuffed away into already full filing cabinets, justice unfound, their loved one’s killer presumably roaming free. There wasn’t a single email that went unanswered by Bright. (And Dani knew without asking that the first thing Malcolm ever does when he reviews cold cases is look for his father’s fingerprints.) </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>JT was surprised by all of this, borderline taken aback, like he didn’t think Malcolm dealt with cases without a phone call from Gil. (JT also tended to forget nearly every day that Bright had been in the FBI for the better part of a decade.) But to Dani, it made perfect sense. She knew that if Malcolm was able to help someone, he would--especially if he could help by solving a murder. (Especially a murder no one else had been able to solve.) Sometimes, perspective was everything, and he really was able to find details no one else had seen, make fresh connections that breathed life to a dead case. And when that happened, Dani knew he outright refused payment. (It’s something she very much loves about him.) He didn’t need the money, and it was enough for him to help.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She sensed, as she watched him thumb through photos on his phone, that’s what he was doing now. Swiping through photo after photo until he could puzzle some more of the pieces together in his mind. Dani’s case was wrapped up, pushed forward into Paperwork Land, so Bright had circled back to another. Today’s case had been an adequate distraction, and now he was hoping he could come back around to an old case with freshened eyes, catch something he might have missed before. It’s in these moments that Dani’s heart swells with immeasurable affection for him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was so fixated on whatever he was reading that he didn’t hear her push her chair back and stand up from her desk, and didn't notice her presence until she placed a hand on his shoulder. He didn’t startle, but his wrist laxened, his phone bumping against his calf as his gaze shot up to her face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” she said softly, garnering his full attention, and the corners of his mouth tugged up in a small smile. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” he said back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m starving,” she said. “Wanna go find some food with me?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” He unhooked his ankles, taking an extra second to stretch his legs out before he stood. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have no idea how you can sit like that for so long,” she said as she plucked her leather jacket off the back of her chair and pulled it on over her blouse. It’s spring outside, supposedly, but you wouldn’t know that by the frigid wind that’s whipped through the city all week long. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Malcolm shrugged. “Years of playing LEGOs as a kid, I think,” he said. “I’d sit like that for hours. And then the yoga probably doesn’t hurt.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her mouth quirked in a thin smile. “Of course you were a LEGO kid.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He pulled on his own top coat, draping his scarf over his neck loosely. Once they stepped outside the precinct, he offered her a gentlemanly arm, which she eagerly took him up on, gladly using him as a human shield against the wind all the way to her car. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They never played the game most couples do, where one says they don’t care where they eat, and then promptly vetoes every idea the other person has. The majority of the time, Dani left the choice up to Malcolm. His exquisitely sensitive stomach had left him stranded with very particular tastes, and often, only about one or two things sounded edible to him in any given day. Dani was nowhere near that picky, hasn’t been since she was a toddler, but she gets it and doesn’t judge him for it. If she’d had Malcolm’s life, where he could pull out only a handful of memories or thoughts per day that didn’t fill him with an enormous sense of queasiness and overall foreboding, she likely wouldn’t be much interested in eating, either. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>On the days they work cases, even the more mundane, straightforward ones, Dani already knows the one thing he was mostly likely to eat. There’s a soup place about two blocks from her apartment that they frequent the most out of all their favorite take out places. Uncle Cheetah’s boasts over 135 different varieties of soup on any given day. Malcolm rotated between the same basic two or three, but Dani was far more adventurous. She hadn’t even come close to trying them all yet. Bravely, she most often opted for the soup of the day; Malcolm generally preferred a simple bisque, sometimes minestrone. If he was actually hungry, he’d order a grilled cheese to go with it. Today is one such day, and Dani gave him an appreciative </span>
  <em>
    <span>good for you, buddy</span>
  </em>
  <span> sort of look when he ordered, at which he rolled his eyes fondly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His hand was at the small of her back as they headed toward the door, takeout bags in hand, all the way to the curb where her car was parked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>+++</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Most of the time, when they wanted to spend a night in, they ended up at Malcolm’s place. It’s just easier, especially when she planned to sleep over (which is, admittedly, often). Other times, her place is closer, and Malcolm’s made it clear he doesn’t care either way. It was just a given that if they head back to her place, eventually, he’d have to take a cab back home to sleep, where his faithful restraints await him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They took their early dinner back to her apartment and sat across from each other in her eat-in nook. It was so small (“cozy” was the word the website had used to describe it, back when she was apartment shopping) that their knees touched. But neither of them minded. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her hand rested on the table, fingers greasy from the dippable strips of grilled cheese sandwich that came with her soup, but Malcolm didn’t seem to mind that. He took her hand in his as he ate, brushing his thumb over her knuckles lightly a few times before he laced their fingers together. A comfortable silence draped over them like a warm blanket. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Malcolm’s thumb kept stroking the top of her knuckles, sometimes lightly massaging, and while it wasn’t his intent, Dani’s mind eventually couldn’t help but drift to vaguely inappropriate places. He was just </span>
  <em>
    <span>eating soup</span>
  </em>
  <span>, for God’s sake, but she knew full well what else he was capable of doing with those hands, and suddenly she was thinking about them massaging other places. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t the most romantic meal to look up and share a matching pair of </span>
  <em>
    <span>do me</span>
  </em>
  <span> eyes over, but there was just something in the way he looked at her, the way he could just read the look on her face as plainly as he could read a newspaper and just </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> what she was thinking. To his credit, he did look surprised to glance up from his styrofoam bowl of soup and find her looking at him with thirst eyes, but within seconds, he couldn’t help but be thinking about the same thing. His sea glass eyes pulled her in, and she watched them flit down and linger on her lips a moment before they came back up to meet her eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dani’s no profiler, but she could tell </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly</span>
  </em>
  <span> what he was thinking about, and heat coiled low in her belly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>+++</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dani Powell had never been a cuddler. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She wasn’t much of a touchy person in general, really. She preferred to keep people at a distance, physically as well as emotionally. It was easier that way. Safer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But with Malcolm, it was different. Unsurprisingly, Malcolm was a cuddler. If they were in the same proximity, he wanted to be touching her. The same held true when they were naked and sharing a bed space. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Surprisingly, she found she enjoyed how affectionate he was. A lot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And she found herself returning his affection easily. She could spend an entire day with her head pressed to his chest, listening to his heartbeat thrum against her ear, his arms encased around her like a cocoon. He was just so warm, all the time, and she couldn’t get enough of it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That was her plan. To spend the rest of the night like this, with her cheek pressed against him and his hand in her hair.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t even eight o’clock yet, and she was already falling asleep on him, lulled by the warmth of his bare skin against hers and his hand on her back. His fingertips traced slowly up her spine, like he was trying to memorize it. Dani was all but purring against him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It occurred to her, eventually, that he was trying (and succeeding) to put her to sleep. When she realized this, Dani let out a little grunt. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing,” she mumbled. Her voice was muffled against his pectoral. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” he said innocently, and Dani scoffed lightly through her nose. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re a damn liar.” She could </span>
  <em>
    <span>hear</span>
  </em>
  <span> him smiling. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His fingers had long since found their way into her hair, as they always did, and had entwined themselves loosely into her curls. He promptly ignored her and changed the subject to one he found more interesting.  “I like your hair this way,” he whispered into it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I know,” she said. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At present, it was natural, springy and unrelaxed--a chaotic mess. She had resented it growing up, how much effort it took to care for, how tightly wound and unruly the curls could get. She had inherited plenty from her mother’s gene pool, but pin-straight hair was not among her haul. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But now, as an adult, her hair was something she had not only embraced, but learned to love. For work, she tended to keep it relaxed. It felt more professional and garnered less attention. But chemically relaxing hair took its toll, and every now and then, her hair needed a break, lest it completely dry up on her. No one really seemed to care, at work, let alone comment on it. Except Malcolm--he cared a lot, apparently. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ever since they had started seeing each other, he couldn’t seem to keep his hands out of her hair. Really, he couldn’t keep his hands off her, in general, when they were alone, but her hair was a special point of fixation for him. Whenever they lay together, she often laid her head against his chest, and his hand would inevitably find its way into her hair. He played with it so often, she was beginning to suspect he derived some kind of tactile pleasure from it. But when she asked him, he simply smiled her favorite smile at her, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and said,</span>
  <em>
    <span> I just like it. It’s so you. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Predictably, he was playing with it as she lay against him now. Just as predictably, she let him. Malcolm had stumbled onto one of the greatest hidden secrets of womankind: Dani actually really freaking loved having her hair played with. Especially the way Malcolm did it. His fingers would card through her tresses, tugging on their ends ever so slightly, as he let his short nails scrape across her scalp, all the way down to the back of her neck. It felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>amazing</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The first time he’d done this, she’d moaned at him. Mortified at the sound that had escaped her throat completely involuntarily, she’d felt her face heat, but instead of balking at her, he had just chuckled and kept going, clearly pleased with himself. Now, she made all sorts of noises for him when he played with her hair. Just soft little sighs of pleasure she didn’t bother hiding anymore. He knew what she liked, and he didn’t hold back from giving it to her. Occasionally, the pads of his fingertips would ghost down the back of her neck, down her shoulders, or come up to trace the shell of her ear. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She let out a long, relaxed sigh against him. “You’re trying to put me to sleep with your voodoo,” she said accusingly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re just upset it’s working.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can’t go to bed yet,” she said through a yawn. “It’s not even eight.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That doesn’t matter.” His voice dropped into something soothing and gentle and dipped in honey. “You’re tired. So sleep.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She gave a little harumph of a laugh. “Really hypocritical, coming from you.” She felt his laugh rumble through his chest, and it made something light and airy spring up behind her breastbone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Have I told you lately how beautiful you are?” he asked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was so laughably bad at subtly changing the subject, but she humored him anyway. She lifted her head just slightly to look at him, feigning a thoughtful expression. “No,” she said, “Pretty sure you haven’t. Not today, at least.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“In that case,” he said, as he leaned forward so that their noses were nearly touching. His hand was still in her hair, and he slid his palm up to cup the back of her head gently. “Dani Powell,” he said, as he pressed his lips lightly to her cheek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think… ” He moved over to kiss her other cheek, letting the tip of his nose brush over hers. “You are…” He paused, leaning up to kiss her forehead, just above her brow. “Without a doubt..” He brushed his nose over hers again before darting up to kiss it. “The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She would have thought he was a giant cheeseball if she couldn’t tell he meant every word. She stared at his mouth; he had the most unfairly gorgeous, full lips she had ever seen on a man, and she wanted to kiss him stupid. Reading the look in her eyes perfectly, he dipped forward and took her lips against his, just as she surged up to meet him. Her hand came up to cup his cheek, his stubble rough against her palm. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She didn’t kiss him stupid, but she came pretty damn close. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Malcolm is not her usual type at all. Physically, he’s nearly the polar opposite of what she’s normally attracted to. He’s just such a gigantic dork; she’s never known a bigger nerd--save Edrisa. Honestly, he and the coroner were two peas in a pod, and when she first watched them interact, she was almost sure sparks would fly. But it became clear Malcolm didn’t share Edrisa’s interest; they were too similar. And for a long time, Dani thought she and Bright were too different. And they are, in many obvious ways, but not in any way that actually mattered to her. He’s the first man she’s ever met who hasn’t been scared off by her. In fact, the more he learns about her, the more he’s drawn in. She’s used to hiding things from the people she dates, tucking her baggage way down deep until it’s almost impossible to find. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But Malcolm has managed to find where most of her secrets are buried. And it’s not like buried treasure; there’s no reward in bringing the darkest parts of her to light. But, they don’t send him running. They don’t scare him; they intrigue him. Instead of repelling him, he’s drawn in closer. And Dani just… isn’t used to that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She isn’t used to people wanting to know her, even after they’ve collided face first into one of her walls. Malcolm is intimately familiar with these walls, by now. He’s inspected them up close, knows where their weakest points are. But his prodding is always gentle, always with just the right amount of pressure, and he always knows when to pull back so he doesn’t press too hard and hurt her. And then, just like that, he pulls out a key to a door she didn’t even know was there and strolls right in. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It should terrify her. But strangely, it doesn’t. There are times when his inadvertent profiling bugs the shit out of her, yes, but she never really has to tell him; her face usually says it for her, and he usually knows when to hit the brakes and back off. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He can read her so easily, like an open book, but one it’s he’s read before--a favorite. One he’s familiar with, but keeps fondly returning to. And that should scare her--it really should. But she trusts Bright. Despite what her instincts would normally have her do, she trusts him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She trusted him to have her back. And then, inch by inch, she began to trust him with a lot more than that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She expected their kiss to turn into something deeper, expected him to growl at her and pull the rest of her body on top of him again. (She could feel how much he wanted to.) But he didn’t. He knew she was tired, and with one last gentle tug on her lower lip with his teeth, he pulled away from her just far enough to press his forehead against hers as he caught his breath. She hummed softly, closing her eyes as she pressed one last peck to his lips. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I really like you, Dani,” he murmured. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I really like you, too, Bright,” she said. The smile that broached his face wasn’t huge, by any means, but it made his eyes crinkle at the edges, and something warm and fuzzy and almost debilitatingly sweet exploded in her chest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>like this </span>
  </em>
  <span>with other people, has never been this way with anyone she’s ever dated. But she adored this man, was altogether smitten with him. It would have terrified her if she didn’t trust him so much--and if she couldn’t tell he felt exactly the same way about her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She shifted as he reached over to grab his phone off her nightstand. “I know you didn’t sleep well last night,” he said, as he adjusted both her pillows behind him so he could sit up a little more. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll call a cab when I start to get tired.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She conceded easily, not even sort of wanting to argue. She still had her flannel sheets on the bed, leftover from winter, and with him next to her, she’s so toasty warm and cozy that she wouldn’t consider leaving her bed for all the money in the world. She curled in at his side, her stomach pressed flush against the outside of his thigh, her arm draped loosely across his abdomen. His chest, once again, made the perfect pillow. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The hand that wasn’t holding his phone found its way to her back again, and any residual tenseness in her body melted away as his fingertips ghosted over the back of her shoulders. Despite his assurances, she made a valiant effort to stay awake for him; she really did. He was one of her favorite people to talk to, and she his, but for the life of her, she couldn’t stay awake when he did this to her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She made one last ditch effort. “What’cha readin’ ‘bout?” She asked, her words dragging together into a pile of sleepy mush. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you know,” he said, “Homicide. The usual.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She huffed out a laugh, despite herself. “Tell me about your case?” she asked, her voice tapering off to a whisper. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>She would swear later she had been paying attention. She heard him start, setting up the details of the cold case he was working through for a family that had reached out to him a month ago. Something about a girl’s body being found in a river, and white tennis shoes at the scene, and shaky alibis all around. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But really, it was his voice that finally pushed her over the edge and into sleep, low and gentle and smooth as it rumbled beneath her cheek, and she was asleep in minutes. Bright had such a </span>
  <em>
    <span>nice</span>
  </em>
  <span> voice. She had always found it oddly soothing to listen to, even when he was talking about absolutely revolting case details. But being so close to him, pressed against him as he talked, was another pleasure all on its own, and she was pretty sure she could stay like this forever and be completely content. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t there when she awoke early the next morning, of course; she wasn’t expecting him to be. She woke up with her face pressed into her pillow instead of his chest. He had left her phone next to her, on the edge of the bed, where she could find it easily. He knew where she kept her sticky notes, and there was a neon orange one stuck to the back of her phone case. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Call me when you wake up?</b>
  <span> it read in his neat handwriting, and she smiled. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She did call him. He picked up on the second ring. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, you,” he said in that voice she loved so much, his slow tone almost a drawl. “Come over here and I’ll make you breakfast.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She pretended to consider for a moment. “Only if you bust out that shiny new waffle maker your sister’s new boyfriend bought you for Christmas.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Because what do you get the guy you barely know for Christmas? A guy who has everything and barely ever eats? A waffle maker, of course. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He chuckled, and she pictured her favorite smile on the other end of the phone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Deal.” </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey thanks, if you made it this far! I wrote this for myself and for a buddy, but I hope you enjoyed this ridiculousness, too. If you did, please drop me a line below! I'd really love to hear from ya! </p><p>Also no beta, we die like men. All the mistakes you found belong to me.  ;D</p></blockquote></div></div>
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